Mercy No More
by extragalatic
Summary: Rebekah Johnson is having strange dreams about the life she'd left behind; the life she didn't want to return to. When Dean Winchester and his brother Sam call, spouting something about the end of the world, how can she not help out. And then there's the angel, Cas, who Rebekah is sure knows something that he's not telling her. (CasXOC later on) (Rating and title may change)
1. Prologue

Rebekah Johnson slowly walked through the barren land; around her, red-orange dust clouded her vision and coated the inside of her mouth, causing her tongue to stick to the roof of it as if she'd just eaten a spoonful of peanut butter. Looking up, she could see that no longer was the sky blue, but tan sepia –the same as the dust surrounding her. The trees in the distance, she knew, hand been stripped of their leaves long ago.

The silence did nothing but thicken the air even more, and created an uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. The only sound that met her ears was the sound of her uneven breaths as she tried to steady her sporadic heart rate. Rebekah had never known of a place such as the one she currently stood in, nor did she think she'd want to, given a choice.

She knew nothing of how she had come to this place, only that she no longer wanted to be there. Just as the dust had not settled, nor had her uneasiness towards the large expanse of land. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with dust. Quickly, she regretted her action, as she was sent into a fit of coughs, the hacking sound echoing through the vastness, and coming back to her tenfold.

Looking around, she saw nothing; she was alone, or so it seemed. Her anxiousness had also brought with it a feeling of curious eyes watching her. Paranoia cloaked her in heavy darkness, causing her to look over her shoulders often. It was during one of her paranoia induced glances that she finally saw him.

He stood, hands hanging limply at his sides; they barely brushed ragged jeans that hung from his hips. His long hair fell carelessly in his eyes, barely brushing his shoulders. She had no idea how he could see anything through the thick fringe, but he did; she could feel his gaze and she knew he saw her. Something about his presence beckoned her to come closer, then again, something else warned her to stay away.

There was no way that she could just turn and walk away from him. What if he needed help? It wasn't in her nature to leave those who needed help without it. It was something she'd felt since she was a small child—the need to help people, no matter the cost to her well being.

She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she could not. What would she have said if she could? Would she had screamed for him to run? But run from what? There was nothing around except that feeling of uneasiness. Could she possibly explain that she had a feeling that there was impending doom hanging right over their heads? She doubted that he could have heard her from the distance he stood regardless.

Reaching a hand out towards him, fingers outstretched, she took a step towards him, the then another, and another. Soon she was running at full speed, ignoring the burning in her lungs and the sting in her eyes as she fought to keep them open against the grittiness of the dust.

It was only when she heard a sickening crack underfoot that she stopped. Almost ruefully, she looked down. Beneath her foot lay a mound of rotting flesh and bone. Once a man, now he was nothing more than a shell of green skin and dead eyes; under the rubber soles of her trainers, he lay broken like the long forgotten toy of a child, a bullet hole graced the space between his eyes. In an instant, a piercing scream echoed through the silence, rebounding off invisible walls.

As her scream died and she fought to regain her breath, she searched for the man that she'd seen only seconds ago. Her breath caught in her chest when she saw that he was so much closer than he'd be when she stopped, and then it hit her, he was the reason for uneasiness. She couldn't make her feet move, no matter how hard both her brain and her heart willed them to; if she could, she would have ran the other way.

She was vaguely aware that the smell of sulfur invaded her senses as his eyes went dark and he lunged at her. The last thing she heard was the faint sound of rustling wings.


	2. Chapter One

Rebekah woke with a start, feeling as if her heart would beat out of her chest. She felt sweat trickle down her spine as she bent forward to cradle her head in the palm of her hands. A dull pain in the middle of her forehead told her that a headache was well on its way to forming; they always did after the dream. She thought they'd stopped. It'd been a month since she'd had one, and she was hopeful that they wouldn't resurface again.

"Damn it." She muttered as she ran her hand through a tangled mass of dark hair.

She couldn't separate herself from that life—the life of a hunter. It'd been three years since she'd stopped hunting. Three years; three long years and yet she was still haunted by the creatures that she once hunted. Her family had begged her to get help— maybe go to a therapist— but she'd refused. There was no way she could tell a therapist that she dreamed of demons trying to kill her; that was just like asking for a free ride to the loony bin. No, whatever was wrong with her, she'd have to deal with herself.

Moving to lean against the headboard of the full sized bed she closed her eyes, willing herself to forget the dream. Keeping her eyes closed, she reached to the light switch and flipped it up, turning the overhead fan on, while leaving the light off. The cold air hit her, and she instantly felt herself begin to relax, until her cell phone rang, loud rock music pounding through the tiny speakers, making her jump and her heart skip a beat.

Slowly opening her eyes, she glanced at the clock, surprised that it was actually morning. Sighing, she began to frantically search the bed sheets for her phone. She'd promised that one day she'd get out of the habit of sleeping with it in the bed, but that day hadn't been today. Finally finding it under her pillow, she glanced at the caller ID. The name that flashed across the screen made her eyes widen considerably. The dark black letters stood out against the white background.

'Dean'.

She hesitated, debating on letting it go to voicemail, at least then she would know what he wanted. Either that or he'd just tell her to call him back, leaving it up to her imagination as to what he wanted to talk to her about; yeah, that was more his style. But still, she couldn't go back to that life and he'd been part of that life. But he was also like family; some of the closest she'd had at one point. Sighing she pressed the answer button and brought the phone up to her ear.

"Dean?" She asked, although it felt more like a statement than a question.

"Hey, Becka," He greeted, and Rebekah noticed that he didn't sound at all like his usual optimistic self, in fact he sounded downright glum. She'd only heard that tone in his voice one other time, and that was when he'd asked her to help him look for his father.

"What's up, Dean?" She asked seriously as she sat up once again and pulled her legs under herself so that she was sitting Indian style. She heard a dark chuckle from his side of the line, and then he spoke.

"Oh, nothing much, just the end of the world, what's up with you?" She would have laughed had he not sounded so serious.

"You—You're not serious, right?" She stammered out the question.

"As serious as a heart attack and we know those are no walk in the park."

"No, Dean. I'm mean seriously…the end of the world? You have to be joking."

"C'mon , Becka, don't tell me you haven't seen the signs. The shit load of electrical storms should have been enough to tip you off that something was going down." He pressed. And then it all fell into place: the storms, everything that'd happened over the past few months. "You know I wouldn't call you unless we really needed your help. You're the only one I can call."

Sighing she nodded, aware that he couldn't see her. There was no way he was lying. Even Dean wouldn't joke about something like that.

"What's your plan?" She asked, staring straight ahead, her headache getting worse by the second.

"We stop it." Dean answered as if she should have known the answer before she asked the question.

"Great." She said sarcastically, "Glad to see that you have all of the kinks worked out." She sighed again, closing her eyes. "When will you be here?" She asked.

"You'll help?"

"No shit, Sherlock. You can't just call me up at…" she glanced at the clock again. "7:48 in the morning, tell me the world is ending, and not expect me to help. Now, when are you going to pick me up?"

"We just passed through Roswell, we'll be in Atlanta by 8:30."

"Damnit, Dean. Thanks for the warning." She muttered as she jumped out of bed, her headache forgotten.

"I've been trying to call you since six o'clock!" He argued.

"Yeah, well, it's called sleep, you should try it sometime." She muttered as she began rummaging through her closet, pulling anything she could get her hands on out and dumping it into the duffel bag at her feet. "I'll see you then. Bye." She added before she hit the end button. Checking her missed calls, she found that he'd indeed tried to call her before. Sighing, she stuffed more clothes into the bag before finding something to change into.

Hauling the bag over her shoulder, Rebekah trudged out of the bedroom and into the small living room. As if in a trance, she sat on the edge of the couch. With a frown she began to look around the apartment. She'd actually really enjoyed living in the place and now there was no way she could be sure when she was coming home, or even if she would make it home at all. She was thankful now that she didn't get the kitten from the pet store that she'd so desperately wanted the week before.

And then there was her job, she liked working at the bakery, and now she was leaving it to go running around with the Winchesters trying to save the world. If they even could save the world, that is. She didn't like doubting the brothers, but in the situation that they had gotten themselves in, there was really no way that she couldn't.

"I should have just let the phone ring." She groaned as she shook her head.


End file.
